


Pushing Irises

by sunkelles



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pushing Daisies Fusion, F/M, Gen, M/M, i make no promises at this point, if i actually finish this there will be hartmon eventually, one-sided barrisco, won't tag it until that happens though because i'm not positive this one WILL get done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 10:54:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11850096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkelles/pseuds/sunkelles
Summary: Bartholomew Henry Allen was a happy boy with a strange, long name. He also had a strange ability. Young Bartholomew could raise the dead. First touch, life, second touch death- forever.Or, the Pushing Daisies AU featuring Barry as the Piemaker, Joe as the PI he works with, and Iris as the alive again childhood sweetheart.





	Pushing Irises

**Author's Note:**

> i love both the flash and pushing daisies with my whole heart and soul and this just kind of happened when i didn't have wifi and was finishing s2 of pushing daisies

Bartholomew Henry Allen was a happy boy with a strange, long name. He also had a strange ability. Young Bartholomew could raise the dead. First touch, life, second touch death- forever. Bartholomew had only raised small animals from the grave before: squirrels on the street, dead bugs in the house, and a toad or two in the yard. He did not know the full extent of his powers, or how dangerous and irreversible they were.

Before Bartholomew met Iris, he went by Bartholomew. He thought that the name was long, and ugly, and awkward, but that’s what his parents called him. Young Bartholomew didn’t know any different.

Iris West from across the street called him Barry. The boy found that he liked it, and soon started calling _himself_ Barry. Although, it’s like the boy would have called himself anything that Iris called him. He thought that Iris hung the sun in the sky. They played together every day after school, exploring the neighborhood, playing card games, coloring pictures for each other, and making and breaking play dough cities together. They talked about the adventures they would like to have together someday, and imagined a future as full and wonderful as any two children have ever imagined. Barry loved Iris more than any small boy had ever loved a small girl.

Then, Barry hurt Iris more than any small boy had ever hurt a small girl. Unintentionally, of course, but intent doesn’t matter when there are dead bodies afoot. Two dead bodies to be precise, that of Francine West and Nora Allen. Barry was one hundred seventeen months, four days and three hours old when his life caught up to this part of our story. His mother, Nora Allen, was baking muffins. It seemed like a normal morning, but many mornings do when everything is about to change. The world does not always turn black and grey to herald the coming of tragedy.

Barry sat at the kitchen table, coloring a picture out of his book to give to Iris later that morning. Nora flitted around the kitchen, waiting for her muffins to finish baking. The stove beeped, and his mother grabbed the muffins out of the stove. Then, a blood vessel burst in her brain. Nora Allen was four hundred and ninety two months, seventeen days and six hours old when she dropped dead. She was still that old when her son touched her. The life returned to her, and she looked around the room in confusion.

“Well, that was strange,” Nora said. She picked up her muffin tin, and stood up for the first time in her second life. Barry smiled, and sat back down at the kitchen table. The world had returned to normal.

He looked out the window, trying to see if Iris had gotten up yet. Iris wasn’t in the yard, but her mother was. Francine West was holding the garden hose, watering plants. Exactly one minute later, Francine West dropped dead across the street, the garden hose falling with her. Barry’s eyes widened. Did he- did he do that? Barry was young, and did not yet know that his powers came with a price. Nora Allen did not notice the death across the street, and instead offered her son muffins. Barry no longer had the appetite for them, but ate one anyway. He tried to ignore the guilt in the pit of his stomach as the day went by. Finally, the worst day of young Barry’s life ended. His mother got him settled into bed.

“My beautiful boy,” she told him. Then, she kissed his forehead and dropped to the floor, dead.

 

The rest of the week passed in a blur. Henry Allen and Joe West both had funerals to plan, and Barry and Iris both had dead mothers to mourn. They spent time together, trying to soothe the other’s pain, but Barry was awkward and stilted. Young Iris assumed that this was because he just lost his mother as well. What she did not know was that Barry had inadvertently killed her mother, and was awkward and stilted around her because of this. The guilt of it was weighing down on him. Barry did not know how to interact properly with the girl he loved with the life he ruined.

Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how you chose to view the situation, Barry and Iris did not have much longer to interact.  The respective burials of Francine West and Nora Allen occurred in the same cemetery at the same time. Barry and Iris met in the middle afterwards, and kissed. It was as romantic as a kiss between two children after their dead mothers’ funerals could be. That was the only time they would ever get to lock lips. Barry’s father sent him away to boarding school less than a week later.

Joe West offered to take Barry in, but Henry insisted that couldn’t be the case. Instead, Barry went to boarding school. He spent years there learning to harness his powers, bake pies, and manage being alone. He got good at all three of these things, but he became best at being alone.

 

Now, years later, Barry is the proud owner of a respectable Central City establishment. He bakes pies in his restaurant, the Pie Hole, and solves murders. The murder solving part was less of his own accord. Joe witnessed him accidentally undead and redead someone. Then, he called him out on it.

“What did you just do?” Joe demanded, as Barry stood over a dead body. Barry moved, and tried to shield the dead body with his own, living one. Barry didn’t know who Joe was at the time, but he knew that he recognized him. He just couldn’t put his finger on who Joe was or how he knew him.

“Um. Nothing?”

“You just brought that man back from the dead,” Joe said, pointing at the corpse by Barry’s feet, “then you redeaded him.”

“I didn’t undead anyone,” Barry said. Joe sent him a look.

“We both know what I just saw.”

“Well I didn’t _kill_ him.” God, why was this happening? He just wanted to live his life. He wanted to bake pies. He didn’t want whatever this is.

“Yes, I know that. He was dead when you touched him. Then he wasn’t dead. Then he was dead again.”

“And what do you want?” Barry asked.

“A partner. I’m Joe West, PI,” says Joe West, father of his former best friend.

“I know who you are,” Barry told him, “You offered to take me in when I was a kid.”

“Barry Allen,” Joe said, and his eyes crinkle up with his smile, “I haven’t seen you in years.”

“Well, I’m doing alright. I’m a Piemaker now.”

“And you can bring people back from the dead.”

“Only for a minute,” Barry insisted.

“Technicality,” Joe said, “that’s enough time for someone to tell us how they died, ain’t it?” Well, when Joe puts it that way.

“I guess you’re right. Are you suggesting we team up to solve murders?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” Joe said, “with my PI skills and your… magic touch, we could be making money left and right.” Barry doesn’t care about the money, not really. He’s making as much as he wants at the Pie Hole.

“Can you help me get back in touch with Iris?”

“I’d love to, if _I_ could get back in touch with Iris.”

“What? What happened?” Barry asked. Iris and her dad were always so close. He couldn’t imagine what could have happened to change that.

“Found out that I’d been keeping a secret from her. She took off two years ago and I haven’t heard from her since.”

“Oh,” Barry said.

“You still in? We could help a lot of people, make a lot of money.” Barry had used his powers a lot as a child, and it so often backfired. He found himself nervous about the prospect, but excited too. Barry hadn’t done much of value with his life, and he wanted desperately to fix that.

“Yes,” he said, “of course.” And so they struck up a work relationship, solving murders and helping people, Joe buying copious amounts of joe and rhubarb pie.

 

On this day, Barry and Joe met at The Pie Hole to discuss a new case. Cisco Ramon, the only waiter to ever grace The Pie Hole, had a new “time saving” invention. Cisco Ramon had three great talents: mad science, singing, and falling in love with people who would never love him back. The most recent example in a long chain was The Piemaker himself.

Cisco’s newest robot rolled around the floor of The Pie Hole, holding a pot of hot coffee in one metal arm, and a pitcher of ice water in the other. He grinned widely.

“Yo, Barry,” he said, maneuvering the joystick, “watch this!” He moved the joystick again, and the robot filled up a cup of coffee on the table beside him.

“Nice,” the owner of the cup of coffee said. Barry sighed, and made his way towards the counter. Then, Cisco’s robot collided with him. Thankfully, it was the side of the robot holding the ice water and not the hot coffee. Barry felt the ice water spill all over his body.

“Shit,” Cisco said.

“Cisco,” Barry said in exasperation, water seeping into his clothes and the ice running down his back.

“This robot is gonna work, Barry,” Cisco said, gently caressing the back of his robot, “I just need to make some adjustments.”

“No more adjustments,” Barry said firmly, “no robots in the restaurant.” Cisco frowned and he pulled the robot into something resembling a reassuring hug. Barry didn’t want to be the cause of that face.

“I mean, until you get it working properly, of course.” Cisco smiled his sunshine smile.

“I’ll have him working within the week,” Cisco declared proudly.

“Maybe give it more time than that. I don’t think it will be up and running right that quickly.” The Piemaker, of course, was trying to spare the other man’s feeling. He didn’t actually want Cisco testing out his creations in The Pie Hole anymore. It always ended in disaster.

“Barry’s just jealous,” Cisco said, patting his robot on the robot shoulder, “he thinks you’re replacing him.” Barry, who the robot was most certainly not replacing, slid his sopping wet shirt off over his head.

“I have to go get a new shirt,” Barry grumbled, grasping the wet fabric tightly in his right hand.

“You know, you could just leave it _off_ ,” Cisco suggested. Barry felt himself blush, and walked into the kitchen to retrieve a new shirt. As soon as he had his new shirt on, Barry exited the kitchen and went to sit down in a booth with Joe. The PI, of course, saw the entire thing. The Pie Hole is a small restaurant, and nothing overt like that ever goes down without everyone inside noticing.

“That boy _really_ likes you,” Joe said.

“Yeah,” Barry says, “I know.” How couldn’t he know? Cisco was not subtle with his attraction. It all made Barry a little uncomfortable, but Cisco was a nice guy, the closest thing to a friend that Barry had. He wasn’t exactly going to tell him to back off and ruin everything.

“Do you swing that way?”

“I don’t know,” Barry said, “maybe?” 

“You just don’t swing _his_ way.”

“Cisco’s great I just- I don’t know.” Barry looked away, over to the framed coloring book page Iris had given him years ago. Barry had never stopped pinning for the little girl he kissed at their mothers’ funeral. Joe sent him a soft smile.

“You’re still in love with my daughter, aren’t you?”

“Maybe. It’d be a miracle if she even remembers me, though.” Barry was certain that while Iris had touched his life, she had all but forgotten about him. Other than the part of himself Iris was not aware of, he was a boring boy, nowhere near as radiant or memorable as her. It was unlikely that she even remembered his name.

“If you could find her, that’d be the real miracle,” Joe said, as he took a long swig of joe.

“You’re a PI,” Barry said, “you could find her.” Joe West wasn’t just a PI. He was the most well-respected and sought out PI in the entire Central City metro area.

“She left, Barr. I wanna give her space. I know she’ll come back someday.”

 

Iris West _did_ come back. She did not, however, come back alive. A week later, Iris West was murdered on a cruise. The news outlets identified her as Lonely Tourist, Iris West. The Piemaker did not watch the news that night, or the night after. He did not read the newspapers. Joe West, however, did. Joe burst through the door of The Pie Hole, clutching a newspaper in his hand. He slammed the newspaper down in front of Barry.

 

Lonely Tourist Murdered! The headline read. Beside the headline was a black and white picture of a gorgeous, dark skinned woman. He didn’t know why Joe would be showing this to him. Then he scanned the article, and saw the name: Iris West.

“What happened?”

“She was murdered,” Joe snapped. Barry could tell that he wasn’t _really_ angry at Barry for the stupid question, but at the world for letting this happen and himself for not stopping it.

“But how?” Barry asked. He knew that wasn’t the most sensitive question to ask at a moment like this, but Barry can’t really think of anything else. His mind sticks on the issue. Who would want to murder Iris? How? Why? Barry’s teachers at boarding school would be proud that he remembered to ask the five Ws and one H at a moment like this.

“Yes, Barry, murdered. She was on a cruise ship and someone stuck a bag over her head and strangled her to death. We have to find out who that was.”

“How are we gonna do that?” Joe just sends him a look.

“Oh, you want me to talk to her?” Joe nods.

“They have her body at the funeral home.” Then, they go to the funeral home.

 

When they get there, Barry opens the door to where Iris’s body was being kept. He steps into the room. Joe does not follow him.

“You’re not coming with me?” Barry asked. He doesn’t think he could do this alone.

“I just- I can’t watch her come back and then see her die again, Barry. Can you handle this on your own?”

“Yeah,” he said. The words caught in his throat, and Barry realized that this would be the hardest thing that he’s ever done in his life.

“I promise, Joe. I’ll find out who did this to her. We’ll bring them to justice.”

“Barr,” Joe said, “there’s no justice after something like this.” Barry nodded. Then, he steeled himself to talk to the girl he used to love for the first time in years, and the last time he ever will. He opened up the door, and walked over to her. Her coffin was pure white, and Iris was wearing a black, burial gown. He opened up the lid, and saw Iris lying there, dead, her hands clasped over her chest. He touched Iris’s clasped hands. Then, she opened her eyes.

“What happened?” Iris said, “didn’t I die?”

“Yes, you did die. We’re trying to figure out who murdered you.”

“I have no idea. I went to go get some ice, and then there was a bag over my head. Then, nothing.” Iris looks around the room with a confused look.

“How is this happening? How am I alive right now?”

“I um, I have the power to bring dead people back to life. But only for a minute.”

“Oh,” Iris said, “we don’t have too much time, then.”

“No,” Barry said, glancing at his watch. It’s already been thirty seconds.

“We don’t.”

“Who are you?” Iris asked, “I’d like to know the name of the guy that kind of saved my life.”

“I’m Barry. I used to live across the street from you.”

“Barry?” she asked, and she smiled brighter than the sun.

“You were my first kiss.” She smiled as she said this, and her smile was the most beautiful thing Barry had ever seen.

“You were mine,” he said, even though he knew that sounded cheesy.

“How long do I have?” Iris asked, “is this forever, or is there a time limit?”

“You’ll… become dead again at the end of this minute. I have to touch you.”

“Oh,” Iris said, the smile dying on her face, “I was hoping this might be permanent.”

“I’m sorry, Iris. We have to. Would it be alright if we kissed for the touch?” Then, Iris smiled again, a little sardonically.

“You were my _first_ kiss. I guess it’s alright if you’re my last too.” Barry leaned in slightly, and listened to the clock tick. He wanted, desperately, to kiss those lips again, but he also wanted them to remain alive. Instead of leaning in for that last kiss, he stood back up. Barry could not touch Iris again, and snuff out her beautiful life again. He could not let the only woman he ever loved die again, even if he hadn’t known her since they were two kids who said that they _like_ liked each other.

“I thought you had to touch me, and then I’d be dead again.”

“There’s been a change of plans,” Barry said, and he smiled widely. Somewhere, someone else just died. Barry found that he didn’t care, because Iris West was alive. At the moment, that was all that mattered to him. Barry peaked outside of the door and looked at Joe.

 “Joe, I could use your help.” Joe glared at him.

“I don’t want to see my dead daughter, Barry.”

“What if she’s not dead?”

“What do you mean? You haven’t touched her yet?” Iris peaked her head around the corner.

“Hi dad.”

“Iris,” Joe said reverently, “I thought I’d never see you again.” Iris bit her lip, and nodded.

“I thought I’d never see you either.” Iris wrapped her arms around her father, and hugged him tighter than she ever had before.

“I thought that I was dead, and that we’d never make up and-“ Joe rubbed her back to comfort her.  

“It’s alright, baby girl. I got you.” Barry tapped his foot nervously.

“Not that I want to break up the family reunion,” Barry said, “but we _are_ in a funeral home, and you _are_ supposed to be dead.” Joe broke the hug.

“Then let’s get out of it.” A small discussion and one heavy lifting session later, Iris West was draped over her father’s back like a sack of potatoes. Joe carried her out of the room with the coffin and into the funeral home reception area before anyone noticed and said anything.

“What are you doing with that body?” the funeral director, a stuffy, middle aged, white man said.

“I am her father,” Joe said calmly, “we’re taking her away.”

“The service is scheduled for tomorrow. We’re putting her in the ground then. You can’t just take the body.”

“I am her father. If I want to take her for a private, family burial then I damn well can,” Joe said. The funeral director frowned at him.

“Don’t you want to take the coffin?”

“No,” Joe said, “the service has been shotty here. We’ll go buy another coffin at another funeral home.”

“Our service is exquisite! You won’t find better in the whole city!”

“I’m sure that anywhere is better than grave robber central here. Don’t think I didn’t see you trying to steal her pearl necklace,” Joe said. The man sputtered and blushed in a way that only the guilty do. They go to leave the room, and then the building. No one even seems to notice them, until an older, white woman with black bobbed hair does.

“What are you doing with that woman?”

“Just carrying her,” Joe said, in a way that didn’t sound suspicious at all.

“Try to look dead,” Barry whispered.

“I’ve had some practice with that,” Iris whispered back.

“Is that Lonely Tourist, Iris West?” the woman asks.

“No that’s _my daughter_ , Iris West,” Joe grumbled.

“I am sorry for your loss,” the woman said, sending Joe a genuine sympathetic look.

“She _is_ dead, isn’t she?” the woman asked, sending Iris’s moving arm a confused look.

“Oh yes, that’s just the way an arm moves when it’s carried,” Barry said, “she’s very dead, very tragic.” Joe looked ready to kill him just because of his bad acting. The woman nodded back at him, and looked very apologetic about bringing it up. Then, she turned to leave. They breathed a collective sigh of relief. Then, they laid Iris down in the back seat. Iris laughed nervously.

“Do I get to sit up, or?”

“Sit up,” Joe said, “Just because you’re not dead now doesn’t mean you can’t get dead again. Now put on your seatbelt.”  Iris rolled her eyes, but sat up in the chair and put on her seatbelt. Then, Barry drove to The Pie Hole.

“Welcome back,” Cisco said, looking back from the table he was clearing off. He looked at Iris in confusion. 

“Who are you?

“I’m Iris.” Both Barry and her father glared at her. They did not have time to come up with an alias at this point, but Barry and Joe had thought that her needing to use one would be implied. Obviously, Iris thought differently.

“And you’re Barry’s?” Cisco was obviously groping for the word girlfriend, hoping not to hear it. Iris West did not say it that day, though she would later, much to Cisco’s dismay.

“Friend,” Iris said. Cisco let out a visible sigh of relief. 

“You know, you look familiar,” Cisco said.

“No,” Joe said defensively, “she’s not familiar.”

“We’ve never met before in my life,” Iris said, even more defensively.

“Well alright,” Cisco said, even more defensively, “can’t a guy make an honest mistake?”

“You’ve just never met before,” Barry said, “Iris is defensive around strangers.” Cisco rolled his eyes. Then, he grabbed the last empty coffee cup off the table he was cleaning.

“I’m going to the back,” he said, starting the walk to the kitchen, “at least the _pies_ like me.”

“What’s _his_ problem?” Iris asked. Barry shifted awkwardly in his seat.

“Well, he- Cisco is. He’s-“

“He’s in love with Barry,” Joe said.

“Oh,” Iris said, “well. Um. I didn’t know you were gay. Not that I have a problem with that.” She added the last bit on hastily. She didn’t have a problem with gay people. Many of her good friends were gay or trans or both. But considering the intense crush that had been reignited in her for Barry Allen, she would prefer if he were not among the ranks.

“Well,” Barry said, “I might be in the liking men sense, but not in the not liking women sense.” _That’s_ more comforting.

“They aren’t dating,” Joe said. That’s even _more_ comforting.

“Do you like him?” Iris asked.

“As a friend.” And _that’s_ the most comforting thing that Iris had heard since the conversation went in that direction.

“Alright,” Joe said, “I think we have more important things to discuss than Barry’s love life.” Neither Barry nor Iris thinks that they more important things to discuss than his love life. Neither of them, however, says this out loud.

They discuss the logistics of Iris being dead and remaining that way in the public eye. They discuss how to keep Iris and Barry from ever touching again, and how Iris will be moving back in with her dad. Then, they discuss something less pleasant.

“Where were you all these years?”

“Going on cruises, getting murdered.” Iris West, of course, was at a location that she did yet not wish to disclose yet with her father. This was, apparently, the end of the discussion.

“Iris, could you go flag Cisco down? I’d like another slice of rhubarb.” Iris sends her father a look, but decides to go do it anyway.

“So, what happened?” Joe asked the moment that Iris was out of range.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Barry, of course, knew exactly what Joe meant. He was referring, of course, to the fact that his daughter was still alive, while Barry had only ever left the undead undead for a minute at a time in the past.

“You can keep people alive longer than a minute. Why don’t you do that more often? Why pretend that there’s this time limit?”

“There is a time limit. If I keep someone alive longer than the minute, someone else has to die in their place. I brought Iris back for good, but someone else had to die to keep her alive.” 

“Oh,” Joe said.

“I’m sorry that I did this.” He isn’t, not at all, but he doesn’t know what Joe will think of that.

“Barr,” Joe said, placing a hand on his shoulder like Iris never will be able to do, “I don’t mind. I’m so grateful that you brought her back, no matter what it took. But I don’t think she will be.”

“Oh god,” Barry said. Barry suddenly realized that Iris will never approve of how she was brought back.

“This secret stays between us,” Joe promised. Because if Iris ever found out how she was given this new life, she would have to live with the guilt. Barry did not know if she would ever forgive him for it. Neither he, nor Iris’s previously estranged father, wanted to find out.

 

Ten miles away, at the funeral home that Iris West was meant to have her funeral at, a young, Black man and an older, white man argue with the funeral director.

“What do you mean, they took her away?” the young man demands.

“Who’s they? Are we talking surgical vigilantes or alien body snatchers?” the older man adds. He fiddles nervously with  two drumsticks, like a child sucking their thumb, or a nervous old person prattling on about the weather.

“Not helping, dad,” the young man said, sounding exasperated by his father’s antics.

“Her father came. Said that he wanted a private, family funeral.” The young man looks ready to yell. Instead, he takes a deep breath and looks like he’s forcing himself to remain calm.

“And where is that?” The director frowns in confusion.

“Why is this any concern of yours?”

“I’m her _brother_ ,” Wally West says with a glare, “that’s why.” Oh my, it seems that Joe West’s secret has arrived.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is on a semi-permanent hiatus. i'm not saying i might not get the energy to come back to this eventually, but the chances are slim. if you read this and like it, though, let me know and it might give me that push i need


End file.
